


Strike Me Down, Please - The One Where the Radio Hates Stiles

by witchofpeachan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, The Jeep - Freeform, The Radio hates Stiles, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:46:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchofpeachan/pseuds/witchofpeachan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles hated being the only one in his house at night. He hated that his dad was on duty at night, especially with the Alpha Pack running around the woods of Beacon Hills. He decides to take the Jeep out to fill up her gas. His radio's out, so why not use that external radio that he bought online for cheap?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strike Me Down, Please - The One Where the Radio Hates Stiles

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! Thanks for clicking on this. It's jacked from my Stiles RP blog on tumblr and I had a lot of fun writing it, I thought I'd throw it at AO3.

The large expanse of road was tiring to look at. But so was the walls of his room, he thought to himself begrudgingly. The constant static on his favorite radio station was a little more than disappointing. He even got one of those expensive, exterior radios because his Jeep’s didn't get a proper signal anymore. It wasn't on though. His dad never liked him to operate it while he was driving (though he couldn't blame him much).

He smacked the power on the radio off for the moment, anyway. Listening to the wind through his window as he drove was significantly less creepy than driving down a dark road in the middle of the nowhere Beacon Hills with white noise. He shuddered, just thinking about it.

And people wondered why he didn't like horror movies. Because his town was a goddamned horror movie. Or at the very least a wanna be horror movie turned thriller flick complete with werewolves and hunters. Given enough time, probably vampires - even demons, too. Stiles rolled his eyes at the thought.

Driving at night should probably freak him out now, he mused to himself as he stopped at a set of lights (again, in the middle of fucking no where Beacon Hills. A plus job with light setups. He would give a big double-thumbs up.) But really, it didn't. Which sort of surprised him; the possibility of seeing more than one glowing set of red eyes had been pretty high as of late.

But that didn't stop his Jeep from needing gas desperately.

The light turned green (finally) and he drove on, knowing a gas station was only about a mile up the road. He pulled in, feeling significantly less panicky than he would normally.

He would have just stayed in tonight until the sun rose if his dad wasn't out on a night shift. And truthfully, that scarred him more than a pack of alphas - his dad on patrol with the pack of alphas prowling the night and gods knows what else out there.

He paid in cash, just twenty bucks (all that was left on his person at the time). It was enough to get him home and to school the next few days; he definitely didn't have enough to play school bus for the “pack”. Not unless they paid him for gas or something. They probably would eventually.

He sighed heavily, watching the guy in the store (why do they even call it that? It’s more of a storage closet with a register and a wall of cigarettes) with narrowed eyes. That particular guy seemed really shady, like a psychopath waiting for an excuse. Stiles shook his head of the thought before he turned his eyes to the external radio.

The Jeep rumbled on and the screen flashed brightly, making his recoil back. He’d have to figure out how to dim the screen at some other point. He just wanted a decent radio station right now.

Stiles glanced between the shady cashier, the time and the screen as he pressed buttons. Why did the factory settings default to Spanish? He hadn’t paid any attention to that class in years!

He shifted the gears into drive and started to pull forward. “Aw c’mon..” He groaned before he actually found the button to the radio.

>   
> _\--Insecure_  
>  _Don’t know what for_

“No.” Stiles almost slammed on the breaks before trying to hit the radio a few times to make it stop. “Jesus christ just no.” Why him. He couldn’t find the touch button to switch stations!

> _You’re turning heads when you walk through the door_  
>  _Don’t need make-up._  
>  _Being the way you are is—_

“Shut the fuck uh-uh-uh-p.” Stiles ground out to the tune, eyes wide and frustrated as his hands gripped the wheel and he focused forward. Why why why, why why why why fucking why?  
The British pop band blasted through the poor Jeep and he groaned. All he wanted was some cool tunes for the ride back to his house, instead he’d subjected to this?

> _So c-come on_  
>  _You got it wrong_  
>  _To prove it right_  
>  _I put it in a song_  
>  _I don’t know why, you’re being shy_  
>  _And turn away—_

“ _So I can stab you in the ah-ah-eyes_.” He groaned, knee bouncing. Fucking no.

> _Na nanananananana_
> 
> _Baby you light up my world like nobody else_
> 
>  
> 
> _the way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed_
> 
> _But when you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell.._
> 
> _You don’t know, uh-oh!_

“ _You don’t know you’re beautiful!_ ” Now he’s done it. Jesus fucking christ almighty someone run him over now please. “Baby you light up my world like nobody else, the way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed, but when you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell - you don’t know - UH OH, YOU DON’T KNOW YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL.”

  
God, if Scott heard him now - ANYONE heard him now, or saw him, they might run him through. He was possessed; cursed by the British pop boy band with the catchy single or whatever that still played on the radio. Oh, now he was doing a drum thing on the steering wheel at the long-ass stop light. “THAT’S WHAT MAKES YOU BEAUTIFUL.”

And faintly on the stars, he was sure he heard “Shut up Stiles Stalinski” from God himself.

**Author's Note:**

> What's funny is that this is based off of what I experienced just hours before. Except with no external radio. Everyone knows the chorus, c'mon. Hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing!


End file.
